Page 10 of The Marquess’s Forbidden Bride

He nodded. ‘Exactly. Now, shall we dance? You’ll notice I was clever enough to wait to ask for that second dance until they were to play a waltz.’

‘I notice it now—and am grateful. One wishes to waltz only with an exceptional dancer lest one’s tender feet be trod upon.’

‘I shall be delighted to prove my skill once again,’ he promised, smiling down at her—a smile that had changed from what she now recognised as his ‘charming society expression’ to one of genuine warmth.

A little thrill flashed through her at knowing she’d provoked that change.

The music began, ending conversation as he swept her around the floor, the sensual connection deepening. She was all too conscious of the burn of his hand at her back, the tingling contact where his fingers gripped hers, the heat of his body as the swirling movements of the dance brushed her against him. Abandoning thought, she gave herself over to the delight of being held so closely, the beauty of the music, the thrill of being whirled about the room against a kaleidoscope of candlelight, the flash of jewels, the jewel-like tones of the ladies’ gowns.

When the music ended, she halted beside him, regretful, as he slowly released her.

‘No more dances tonight?’

‘I’m afraid not.’ Conscious of the curious looks they were receiving as they remained motionless in the centre of the dance floor, she placed a hand on his arm, ignoring the little shock of contact to urge him into motion. ‘Though by now it’s probably known that Wexford asked Englemere to sponsor you, it will cause speculation if you are too much in my company. Becoming the subject of gossip isn’t desirable for either of us.’

‘Not if I hope to have you give me a tour of your favourite gardens.’

She could only be flattered—and happier than she ought to be—that he wanted to spend more time with her.

‘Lady Englemere has invited me to dinner again two nights from now. When I see you then, maybe we could make plans for that garden tour?’

‘We could start with the gardens at Stanhope House. Pleased with the changes I’ve made at Wellingford, Sarah has given me a free hand. If you’ve not had sufficient garden viewing after that, I can take you to Kew.’

‘I shall look forward to that. Now, if there are no more dances to be had, I’ll take my leave and see you at the Stanhope House dinner.’

‘Until then.’

She watched him walk away, bemused. He couldn’t really be interested in gardens… Could he?

She recalled St Maxwell’s degrading remarks and her smile faded. If he’d suffered such treatment at school, no wonder he’d developed that buffer of smiling charm. And no wonder he’d laughed at her imagining him the son of a general or a duke, after having others jeer that he must be the bastard of a criminal or a drunk. Aching for the cruelty he’d suffered, she was fiercely glad he’d had a family who supported him, then found friends and unquestioning acceptance in the army.

That must make leaving the army, losing the place he’d won among friends and comrades who’d valued him for who he was, even more difficult.

She’d help him as much as she could to find an equally valued place in Society. And very much look forward to seeing him again at Sarah’s dinner.

But as it turned out, it wasn’t at dinner that Emma met Marsden next. Two days later, in the afternoon before that dinner as she gathered blossoms for the table, Sarah’s butler hurried to her in the garden. ‘Miss Emma, Lady Englemere wants you in the Blue Salon immediately.’

Alarmed by the unusual summons, she handed the trug of flowers to the butler and hurried in through the library’s French doors and down the hall to the Blue Salon.

Where she found her sister, her brother-in-law—and Lieutenant Marsden.

His usual charming smile entirely missing, Marsden was pacing the floor, while Sarah and Nicky looked on impassively. As she entered, he paused to bow to her.

‘Lieutenant Marsden has startling news,’ Sarah said. ‘He wanted you to hear it, too.’

Her sister indicated a place on the sofa beside her while Englemere took a wing chair by the hearth. His expression harried, Marsden remained standing.

‘I came to ask Lady Englemere if she would include another guest for dinner tonight,’ he began. ‘Someone who would explain what I can hardly believe myself, although she seems to have irrefutable proof that what she claims is true. That guest is my aunt—my real aunt, by blood. Two days ago, she found me at my lodgings and related a tale I can yet hardly believe to be true. A tale which revealed the identity of my mother—her sister. And of my father.’

‘It must be thrilling to learn at last what you’ve long wondered about!’ Emma said. ‘I’m so pleased for you.’

He gave her a strained smile. ‘It’s…relieving to discover I am not, after all, descended from gallows-bait or a street sweeper. My mother was a gentlewoman and my father was…the Marquess of Richland.’

Emma uttered a little gasp. ‘That’s—that’s incredible! How could such a thing have remained undiscovered for so long?’

‘That’s not the most incredible part of it. My father passed away six years ago. Which means—I am now the Marquess of Richland.’

Before she could fully comprehend that astounding fact, Marsden said, ‘I thought it best to relay the news at once and ask that my aunt, who is in full possession of the facts, be present to tell the full story. So you might have time to…adjust to the idea. You have all been so kind in offering your assistance, I wanted to let you learn about the…change in my circumstances at once, before it becomes known by the rest of Society. Since—’ he gave a rueful laugh ‘—it appears I will not be needing a position after all. I know this must leave you with more questions than answers—it did me, but I beg you will wait until this evening, when my aunt can explain all.’